


book swindler's folly

by wabbajacked



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Mind Meld, Relationship Discussions, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24731182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wabbajacked/pseuds/wabbajacked
Summary: Returning to Karazhan means returning to old habits for Khadgar, for better or for worse.
Relationships: Khadgar/Medivh (Warcraft)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

If someone had asked Khadgar to pinpoint the specific moment when Medivh _really_ had returned to Karazhan, he would have been at a loss. His self imposed exile plan in the dusty ruin of the tower after the Legion’s defeat wasn't designed for two people, but somehow his former master slotted into it without pomp or announcement. He wasn't sure if it was the magic of the tower or their old bond making it feel that way, but it seemed to Khadgar that he had been there all along. Like they both never left the tower in the first place, and that the pain of the years between leaving Karazhan and returning to it was just a distant dream.

In spite of not having been an apprentice in an enormously long time, he found himself responding to snappy commands to take notes or mumbled requests to hand over a book or reach it on an upper shelf with youthful eagerness. In the evenings, he still let Medivh entrap him in the same idle discussions about the nature of magic that led nowhere, both of them armed with a sharp wit, endless and wild experience and dark, shimmering glasses of mana-infused wine, making more and more ridiculous arguments for their side as the night went on and the fireplace died down slowly.

It was happening again that afternoon, the return to apprenticeship.

Medivh had asked for _Contemplations on Many Worlds,_ off-handed in a way that was odd even for the moody man _._ Khadgar found himself reaching for the heavy, worn tome from one of the top shelves without thinking, but stopped himself when he touched its rough, dark leather binding. He grimaced, mild suspicion washing over him. “What do you want that for?”

Medivh saw no need for any kind of pretense regarding his intentions for the book, judging from the mild note of mischief in his voice. “I saw your name on the spine of the book.”  
  
Khadgar suppressed a groan, turning his head a little just to shoot a dirty look to Medivh, who looked entirely unapologetic. “You can’t have it.” 

He now very much regretted not burning the book ages ago. He wrote it when he was only twenty, and the book was quite controversial by now... With good reason. It wasn’t the best written thing in the world, and he could think of a million ways to improve it -- if only he had the time to do so. He hadn’t opened it in years, afraid of being faced with the folly of his youth and theories he put down on paper with overconfidence beyond his years and experience.

“Maybe I’ll just take it myself, then.” Medivh stepped up to try and get past him with an easy smile on his face, and Khadgar went right in to block his path in a rush, using his height advantage to stare down Medivh with clear disapproval in his eyes. It was new, being able to defy him so openly without consequences. Medivh seemed to find it amusing. His master was mercurial as ever, even now, but these days his shifting moods seemed to sway towards a more positive attitude when he wasn’t being quietly cryptic, around Khadgar at least. 

The familiarity of their back and forth was both comfortable and grating, somehow. It seemed omnipresent during these days they were spending together, and it heightened his sensitivity to his surroundings, making him aware of Medivh's magically loaded presence anywhere in the tower at all times. In his mind, he perceived it a beacon of swirling energy, potent and attractive, and so familiar that beholding it stirred an old ache in his heart. This feeling made him stare at the man's beak-like profile in the dim light of the crackling fireplace in the night when their research sessions ran late. It made reaching for the same book or showing up at the only working bathroom in the tower for a bath at the same time feel unnecessarily… Charged.

Oh, and charged it was. Khadgar liked to believe himself free and cured of the crush from his youth, but he found himself faced with evidence to the contrary more and more. Unreasonably heated thoughts swirled around his head all the time, brought on by something as simple as watching Medivh's elegant fingers stroking his lower lip and neat, trimmed beard thoughtfully while he was absorbed in the day’s work. When he was alone, he was haunted by a persistent daydream of running his fingers through his master's silky long hair, shiny and smooth-looking as it was, like the down of the pitch black raven form he so favored. Sometimes, when watching over Medivh's shoulder for an experiment, they would end up nose to nose when the man unexpectedly turned to face him, the close eye contact sending his heart hammering. It was downright agonizing.

He would on occasion be caught staring, when he wasn't being careful. Khadgar was unsure if Medivh knew what his longing looks meant. His master was a shrewd man, and his unnaturally bright green eyes would bore into Khadgar with such intensity that he felt uncomfortably exposed for a split second, as if his deepest thoughts were on display for all the world to see. But then his expression would soften, benevolent but not quite a smile, his eyes losing their inquisitive fire and regarding Khadgar with a fond kind of warmth. _Fond_ is what he liked to imagine it was, at least.

He was much too old to yearn. And now that they were standing so close together yet again, Medivh’s warm, herbal tea scented breath brushing softly against his face, he decided he had enough.

He pushed Medivh up against the bookcase, with just enough force to pin him there without hurting him. The wood groaned under the sudden pressure, and the books resting upon it rattled, coating them both in a fine layer of dust. A look of naked surprise played upon Medivh’s face, giving Khadgar the temporary satisfaction of having caught him off-guard. The expression vanished quickly enough, replaced by a bird-like head tilt, his eyes curious and searching. 

“We can’t carry on like this,” Khagdar told him sternly. That only caused the head tilt to become more pronounced, a few strands of hair falling on his forehead.  
  
“You’ll have to explain what exactly you mean.” If Medivh was inconvenienced by being pinned to the bookcase, he showed no indication of it. 

“This…” He found himself unable to articulate his frustration, suddenly put on the spot. His courage was leeching from him by the second, making him wonder what possessed him to manhandle Medivh like that. In just a moment, he found their positions being reversed in such a sudden move, he wasn’t even left with a moment to react as the room blurred around him. A small magic aura crackled around his limbs now, and upon testing whether he can move, he realised he was being restrained by the spell. It was the same spell Medivh had used on him years ago, when he was tasked with cleaning up the very mess of the library they found themselves in now. He huffed with just enough annoyance in the tone to let Medivh know what exactly he thought of that blast from the past.

“This, apprentice?” he asked, stepping closer until their chests were touching, just barely. “I'm glad we agree.”

The deep breath he took only served to press his front further against Medivh’s. With how long he had wanted something like this, even that little contact seemed overwhelming. He closed his eyes to cope with the feeling. Even like that, he could sense the smear of magic ahead of him that was Medivh moving closer, and then the barest hint of facial hair touching his upper lip.

He shifted only a fraction, as much as the magic binding allowed, parting his lips expectantly, and easy as that, they were kissing. He could hardly move his head enough to tilt it into the kiss, but Medivh’s soft hands reached up to help along, cupping his face to direct it to his liking. The simple gesture left him dizzy with how sure and commanding it was, and when Medivh pulled back to break their light kiss, he strained to recapture his lips, much to his master’s amusement. Khadgar felt like the only thing stopping his knees from buckling was the spell.

All he could do was watch as Medivh reached up to get the wretched book he had requested himself, and then he was released from the bindings.

“I’m glad we agree that we can’t carry on with you being so rude,” he told Khadgar, waving the book with an aura of smugness surpassing the aura of magic he was always shrouded in. Khadgar half-heartedly tried to swipe at it, but Medivh was nimbly out of his reach already, hunched like a raven protecting a shining locket it found, carrying his prize away to the reading area, tucked away safely inside his feathered cape.

Khadgar merely slid down to sit on the dusty geometric rug, his back scraping against the bookcase as he went, reaching up to touch his lip and replaying the moment in his mind.

He’d never know what went on in his master’s head.


	2. Dreamscape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Failing to use their words, Khadgar and Medivh resort to a little magical crutch mages are known to use sometimes.

It was an uneventful evening for once, especially for Karazhan standards. Medivh seemed too tired to grill him about the magic discoveries he made over the years, or to try and bait him into a philosophical discussion that may go on until the hours of dawn. Instead, after they gave up on their research for the day, they both crumpled onto a pile of pillows in front of a purple-tinged mage fire flickering in the stony fireplace ahead, chasing away the ghastly cold of their home. 

It didn't necessarily _need_ to be purple to warm them, but Khadgar enjoyed the unusual color and the way its light danced across the room, rendering the study they were in even more mystical. Medivh eyed it skeptically when he summoned it, but otherwise didn’t comment. Khadgar found himself slightly defensive of the fire, just because of that look. He didn’t speak up though, unable to muster the energy required for that. The fire was easy on the eyes and a good enough distraction, so he just sank further into the pillows, too lazy to even make a move to get up and head to his own rooms.

Usually, at this time of the night Khadgar would leaf through a tome in the silence, something _fun_ compared to their tedious daytime research. Tonight he couldn't bring himself to pick anything up. He found himself tired too, a heavy weariness tipping his mood from neutral towards grumpy, even if he didn't feel like retiring to bed yet.

He wished he was the complaining sort, to air his grievances to the empty air and get it out of his system and feel better that way, or to verbally dump them on Medivh, hoping to receive some reassurance or word of comfort in return. He wondered if the man would even listen. They never had the habit of just saying things that were on their minds, and he had no idea what it would be like, talking to him in such a way. He loved the man, as hard as it was to even admit to himself, but their day-to-day relationship still had ways to go, towards some normalcy of actually talking about things that weren't magical theory or reality threatening disasters.

He hadn't even brought up the kiss. Yet.

The problem was that he truly had no idea how to approach it, to the point where he started convincing himself he was swept up in some kind of vision when he got to enjoy Medivh's mouth on his in those brief moments when his eyes were closed. Just another trick of the tower. Khadgar found himself staring at the man's dark beard, wondering if he truly was capable of imagining its soft yet scratchy texture on his own face. He didn't have experience to draw from, after all.

Medivh must have felt his gaze, because he finally dragged his sleepy eyes from the fire to look at Khadgar. To avoid it, Khadgar leaned back in an attempted smooth maneuver, until he was lying down in their comfortable pillow pile, staring up at the ceiling. His master wasn’t deterred by that, and leaned over him, trapping him in a stare-off. Khadgar was about to unleash his full grumpiness by saying something, but apparently so was Medivh, because they both ended up with their mouths half open and suddenly pausing.

The stare lingered for a moment, Medivh’s expression betraying the hint of quite a struggle going on behind it. Then his hand came up, arranged in a gesture Khadgar only ever saw in illustrated manuscripts tucked away in corners of every mage-curated library he knew of. He wasn’t sure how his suddenly breaking out sweat could be cold at the same time his cheeks were heating up considerably, but he wasn’t about to question it.

It was the start of an incredibly intimate thing, the gesture. A ritual mages sometimes shared. Some considered it to be _more_ than anything people could do together. More than love or sex, more than words could express. Others thought it was an empty thing, a violation of privacy and giving in to baser, unfiltered thought which should be tempered by societal conventions and careful planning. Khadgar leaned more towards the first camp. He considered himself to be quite the romantic.

"I've never…" he breathed, voice breaking with excitement and embarrassment both. Even if he didn't expect to find disgust or pity in Medivh's face, he still felt a tinge of fear at the thought of looking up to see it. When he steeled himself and did, the expression was soft and full of understanding. Desire, even. Medivh wanted this. And more. It was getting increasingly harder to convince himself that anything that transpired between them was all imagined.

"I'll guide you. If you'll agree." His voice was as patient as his hand, still splayed in the traditional inviting gesture. Khadgar turned his entire body to face his master on his side, and copied the relaxed pose of Medivh's hand. He gently brought the tips of their hands together. 

At first there was nothing. Medivh slowly lowered himself onto the pillows too, not breaking their hand or eye contact. He was just about to start getting antsy that it wasn't working, when he felt a tug of magic reaching out from Medivh, answered by something in himself. It surged out to where their hands were joined. Khadgar wanted to look down towards the point of contact, as if he could see the magic at work, but the way his master was looking at him was hypnotic. It was part of the ritual, he remembered.

He looked more deeply, the air around them crackling, the walls of the room and the stony ground slipping away from around them in a blur and he was dizzy, so dizzy, falling through the vast nothing of the great dark beyond, screaming without a sound leaving his mouth.

Everything was silent as their surroundings solidified into a pure absence of light and he finally caught his bearings and probed around with his magical senses. None of the research he read about the phenomenon of the ritual they just performed could pinpoint what exactly this place was. Some mages speculated it was a peek into the Nexus. Others that the force of magic-tinged souls brushing against each other allowed them to side-step into the Shadowlands for a moment. And some deemed it a hallucinatory experience, created by--

"It is exactly none of those things, young Trust," Medivh's amused voice rang out from all around him. It wasn't exactly a voice. It was a thought. And he felt rather than heard the emotion in it. "It is something else entirely."

"Some place between us, created where our minds touch," he finished his master's thought easily, much in the same manner that he heard his words. He looked at himself, now a bodiless form. It was like a flame, flickering between different colors wildly, vast and unstable, but kept assembled by his iron will. The colors weren't as random as he thought at first glance. He now recognised them as the different magical forces he wielded. Violet arcane pulsing into a shade of frosty blue, briefly flashing as a golden ray of light granted to him by A'dal as a spark of protection a long time ago. Some shamanistic energy picked up on the way, dancing as a collection of elemental spells. A flash of the darker things he had to resort to in his time fighting desperately for his life and that of his comrades in Outland, a touch of fel and shadow swallowing everything for a moment. But where was Medivh?

As soon as he asked himself that, he knew. His master's presence shifted in answer anyway, as if warmly coiling himself around his own. The deep, starry darkness he perceived around himself wasn't the terrifying emptiness of space. It was Medivh's spirit. 

Khadgar was hit by the feelings flowing between them all at once: the inability to just say things in human words that he thought about earlier. The deep, bitter regret over the cards they were dealt that they shared. The nostalgia, the memories, the weight of everyone's burdens, the scars of this life.

There was joy too. Reignited by finding their way back to each other. Muted and distant, almost shy. Like acknowledging it would destroy the brittle reality of it and reveal it as an illusion. 

And, most surprising of all, there was love. It was the kind of love Khadgar held tucked away secretly within himself, but now found answered by its other, mirrored half. _I hid for the fear of impropriety. The fear of endangering you. The fear of digging up old wounds._ Their voices and thoughts mingled in the statements, shared by both. Most of all, a common thread in it all was a mutual fear of being rejected.

The two met in the middle with a bashful little spark of finally understanding they are the same. It grew, fueled by both of them, until it felt like they were both going to catch fire, their joyful communion slowly blurring into the uncertain lines of dreaming together. Khadgar was himself again, wandering familiar streets of cities his mind made up during resting hours, Medivh with him, hand in hand. Then he was a hunter, chasing dark birds who held his master’s form through haunted woods. He was a star and Medivh was the moon shooting down the sky, they were both animals made of pure magic stalking over the plains of an alien world, and they were both rolling balls of energy crashing through the elemental plane. They dashed through their shared dream and they laughed and their souls mingled until they burned all their energy away. 

It faded away bit by bit when exhaustion hit, and he let it dissolve with some difficulty, unwilling to end their bond even as it was reaching its natural end. When it was over, it was difficult to not be aware of how dull regular dreams are while they were happening for the remainder of the night. When he finally woke, he spied dawn already breaking through one of the few plain glass windows in the tower. He shifted his tired body to seek a more comfortable pose in the pillow pile, when he noticed Medivh still by his side, their hands joined in a soft grip.

He didn’t let go.


	3. Use Your Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Khadgar was left unsatisfied by using magical thought sharing to establish their relationship, Medivh relents and agrees to have a formal talk about it.

A few days to get his thoughts on his love life and potential relationship together was nothing. He felt like he needed at least a few _years_ , moreso since he was faced with the prospect of having to share them with Khadgar. Outloud. By speaking them from his very own mouth. The thought of that made a distant feeling of dread settle in his stomach. For a short but extremely irrational moment, it seemed worse than facing a horde of demons or orcs did. 

Distraction from all these thoughts buzzing around in his head was something he sorely needed, so he dedicated himself to organising a nice dinner on the fateful day. Instead of merely conjuring the foods with the convenience his magic provided, he decided to step out of Karazhan and make his way around the cities of the world. There were certain food items he enjoyed in particular, and he had a feeling Khadgar would appreciate this most sincere attempt at a romantic gesture.

First, he retrieved some of his stationery from the library, and penned a note for Khadgar in a steady hand, informing him of his absence for the day in a few sentences. He left the details vague, not wanting to spoil the surprise, but slipped in some reassurance he’d be there for dinner and that Khadgar did not need to do anything but show up. The last thing he needed was to make Khadgar think he was being abandoned. It didn’t take long to look the note over for any errors and to make sure the general tone of it wasn’t too cold.

The note was done to his satisfaction after adding a signature to the bottom in his ridiculously swooping handwriting, the ink he chose glittering at the right angle. He deliberated on it for a moment, then scratched down a bird with his rudimentary drawing skill, filled in with the dark, sparkly ink until it looked like a feather blob with a triangular beak and sharp claws, placed right next to the signature. He knew it would amuse Khadgar. 

He left the folded note on the breakfast table they used in the mornings together, tucked under a mug he took from the cupboard and conjured coffee into, adjusted to his apprentice’s liking and enchanted to stay warm, sure that Khadgar would make a stop there during his usual routine. The cup said **_“#1 ARCHMAGE”_ ** on it in a gaudy font, one of the gag gifts acquired in Khadgar’s days of bossing around ‘Champions’ that his apprentice apparently thought were funny enough to keep. He looked at it with some distaste, but left it alone, knowing Khadgar would never forgive him if he destroyed it. His business in Karazhan was concluded with that, and since he was already dressed in his traveling leathers and feathered cloak, he set out without dawdling, eager to be out of there before Khadgar woke up.

The day passed in a rush of cities, scattered between moments of flying and portaling over the world. He retrieved his first ingredients for a charcuterie board in Stormwind. A beautiful smoked ham with a rosy center caught his eye in one of the decorated shop windows in the trade district, and he went inside to buy it, lured by the sight. He left with three more kinds of pepper-rolled salami, some cured exotic meats, and enough different cheeses to feed an army, most notably brie, one of the old favorites he still often craved, a taste acquired in his youth that haunted him after midnight some nights. It was all wrapped in decorative paper from the shop, and he stored it in a little pocket dimension that would keep the food fresh. 

The wine that traditionally went with all of that wasn’t quite to his taste though, so he made a quick, stealthy stop in Suramar to obtain a magic infused bottle that was a local delicacy. Medivh hadn’t tasted it yet, but he remembered Khadgar mentioning it fondly during his recollection of the time spent in the Broken Isles, and the gold-covered bottle coupled with the magical thrum of the liquid inside simply meant he had to try it. While he was there, he stopped by the sunny, azure seaside of Azsuna to obtain some cherry tomatoes and olives, the plants still tended by the ghastly inhabitants of the place who were restoring the natural order of things as the place was recovering from the Burning Legion’s fel poison.

Fruit and nuts from Ashenvale’s remaining forests joined his bounty of the day, some boar jerky and grilled sausages from Orgrimmar to add to his board, a sugary strawberry-mana pastry beloved by both of them from one of Dalaran’s acclaimed bakeries, a bowl of sweet goat milk cream from Ironforge, and he was set. With a wave of Atiesh, whose custody he now shared with Khadgar, Medivh appeared again in Karazhan near sunset, right on time.

His apprentice’s presence was still pulsing away softly in the library, and Medivh luxuriated in the feeling of being able to sense him so close for a moment. Then he set to arranging the ingredients he retrieved during the day on a fragrant wooden board he found tucked away in the kitchens for this very purpose, obviously aged but protected from the dirt brought on by years of disuse by a spell placed there a long time ago. After grabbing it and a few of the remaining knives that hadn’t been stolen or eaten by rust, he went to the dining room, where they would have dinner. 

He didn’t have much of an artistic eye but he was quite pleased with the way he placed all the food on the board, the precisely cut slices of meat and cheese piled up on each other for a rich effect that would make any observer hungry, the fruit, tomatoes, olives and nuts scattered among them to break up the monotony of the arrangement. He placed the cream and pastries on a separate platter to serve as dessert. As a finishing touch, he got out two beautiful crystalline wine glasses from the pocket dimension some of his more beloved possessions were stashed to avoid all the looters going through Karazhan in the time he was absent, and set the gilded, glowing wine bottle between them.

Khadgar must have sensed his return, because he was leaving the library now, apparently on the way towards the dining room as they had agreed before. Medivh ignited the candles on the table and walls with a wave of his hand as it had gotten quite dark now that the sun was gone, just as Khadgar pushed the doors of the room open and stepped inside. 

He was bathed in the light of the candles just enough for Medivh to see the surprised expression that washed over his face upon witnessing what Medivh had done for them. He didn’t need to tell Khadgar that the food was real and not conjured, since the man should have been able to sense so for himself. Instead, he pulled a chair out for Khadgar, remembering some of his manners. 

“Thank you,” Khadgar said before even moving towards the chair. His shoulders lifted towards his ears, as if he was trying to disappear into the collar of his robe like a shy turtle. Medivh gripped the chair harder, overwhelmed by warmth and fondness for his apprentice. 

“You are welcome.” It was difficult not to sound smug, because everything was going just right. Khadgar rolled his eyes at the tone, but it was playful rather than genuinely annoyed. 

After that, he gathered his wits and took the offered seat to keep Medivh from waiting too long, and Medivh pushed it in for him to be comfortably close to the table before joining him and pouring them both some wine, its glow swirling inside the glasses, the contrast mesmerizing in the dimness of the room.

“So. Dinner looks good.” Khadgar pulled his gloves off and set them aside before helping himself to some of the meat by just grabbing it off the board with no regard for how he jostled the carefully arranged heaps of food. “Did you really go out just to get all of this?”  
  
Medivh picked up one of the wooden picks they were to use as eating utensils and offered it to Khadgar pointedly, to prevent him from poking at the food with his hands the entire evening. “It didn’t seem right to conjure it all. I wanted tonight to be special. To be good for you.”

Khadgar looked at the offering, grinned, and shoved the bit he took into his mouth anyway, just to be a menace. Medivh sighed and put the pick down again. 

“My, my, someone’s being quite a romantic.” It was Khadgar’s turn to be smug once he was done chewing, but Medivh didn’t give him the satisfaction of an eye roll in return. He decided to hit him where he was weak and fluster him instead. 

“Anything for _my_ Trust,” he said with an exaggerated note of flirtiness to it, like he might have done in his old hosting days, reaching over to brush his knuckles against Khadgar’s cheek. It was enough to kill whatever reply Khadgar could’ve mustered, a dark blush spreading over his cheeks instead, and lingering there. 

“You did that on purpose.”

“I do everything on purpose.”

Khadgar sighed, without a real note of exasperation to it. “I’m just going to eat all of this,” he gestured at the board, and finally picked up one of the wooden picks Medivh provided. He skewered a rolled slice of cheese and lifted it off the board, but changed his mind halfway towards moving it towards his mouth and instead offered it to Medivh, who gave it a confused look. When Khadgar shook it impatiently, he got the hint and leaned in to bite it off the stick, looking up at him for confirmation that this was what he wanted. Khadgar chuckled. “That wasn’t nearly as cute of me as I thought it would be.”

“I’ll have to agree with you. I felt like a horse being fed a sugarcube.” He leaned away again, picking up his glass to play with it.

“You looked like one,” Khadgar said, and started fidgeting with his pick, mirroring Medivh’s sudden nervousness. “So… you wanted to talk.”

“ _You_ wanted to talk, if I recall correctly.”

“So I did.” He stabbed at a cherry tomato without actually meaning to eat it, the juice from it spilling on the board and spraying across some of the cheese. He let it drop back down with a squelch. “It’s just difficult to start.”

“Yeees.” Medivh took a long sip of his wine, not drinking as much as he was buying time, and he looked over the glass at Khadgar, who glanced up at him with an awkward smile when he noticed.

“Let’s start with the basics. Do we want this to be a romantic relationship?”

“Yes,” he said again, without hesitation this time. Khadgar was pleased with the answer, his smile melting away into being genuine now.

“It’s a yes from me too. Committed? Monogamous?”

“I don’t think I see people other than you regularly enough to have a choice,” Medivh deadpanned, which earned him a poke in the side from Khadgar.

“Very funny. I’ll take that as a yes. If it comes up sometime in the future, I suppose we can talk about it again.” He looked almost as if he was considering writing all of this down. Medivh simply nodded in agreement to what he said. “Sexual?” Khadgar added after a moment.

“I would like so, but if you’re not--”

“Oh, I am. I am into it.” Khadgar was more than eager to interrupt. “Did you want to have sex with me before?” The way he said _before_ made it pretty clear what era of their lives it was referring to, and he looked at Medivh with barely restrained curiosity.

“No. I did love you in a way, even then. I was aware of your… feelings towards me.” Medivh felt like he should be saying all of this through gritted teeth. He still didn’t know why Khadgar needed to hear this said out loud when they had already hashed it out through their bond earlier. 

“I didn’t dare look into myself about it too much, lest it catches Sargeras’s attention,” he continued, and he saw Khadgar wince at the mention of the name. He slid a hand over his apprentice’s for comfort. “And it would have been inappropriate for me as your mentor regardless. You don’t need to hear the lecture on age gaps and power dynamics, I imagine.”

Khadgar squeezed his hand weakly, and just huffed to himself, as if he regretted asking at all. “I understand. We don’t have to worry about any of that now, do we?”

“I don’t think we do, _Archmage Khadgar of Dalaran and the Kirin Tor, Supreme Commander of the Alliance Expedition, Keeper of the Eternal Watch--_ ” Khadgar was already reaching over desperately, trying to put a hand over his mouth to stop this, but Medivh leaned away with a smirk to keep intoning the list of titles. “-- _Lord and Master of the Mystic Citadel of Nethergarde, and Guardian of Azeroth--_ ”

The blush on Khadgar’s cheek got deeper, and he crossed his arms almost petulantly. “I get it, I get it.” 

Medivh finally relaxed too, smiling freely. A talk like this wasn’t as bad as he had imagined. He reached for his wine again, just to savor it instead of using it as a crutch to escape from the conversation. He brought it to his lips, closing his eyes to enjoy one victorious sip. 

“Do you want to have children?” Khadgar wouldn’t have been Khadgar if he hadn’t interrupted his moment of bliss with something like that. He choked on the mouthful of wine he was about to swallow, and some of it came dribbling from his lips and over his beard as he struggled not to cough all of it up. He reached for his napkin to dab his chin clean, buying himself some time when Khadgar continued, amused by his reaction. “What? It’s a serious consideration for people getting into a relationship.”

“No, I don’t want to have any. Do _you_?” Medivh countered, hoping it wouldn’t be the answer that broke their burgeoning relationship talks.

His apprentice actually seemed relieved. “No.” His answer was quick and sure. Then, with a laugh, he added, “You are maybe 25 years late to being able to knock me up, anyway.”

“Pff, as if I would reproduce in such a rudimentary manner. If I really wanted a child, I would conjure myself one in a bubble. Or just duplicate myself.” The haughty way he said it was just play. “Besides, as I remember it, you wouldn’t have been so keen on doing that for anyone. Bearing a child, I mean.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t. It was merely a jest. Maybe your mother didn’t have the right idea after all.” He stopped to take some food, but ended up chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully instead. “Do you mind that I’m--”

“I don’t mind. Khadgar, please. If I minded, I wouldn’t have burned the letter with the name you left behind. I wouldn’t have shared the magic that helped me change myself, so you can help yourself, too.” He now took Khadgar’s hand between two of his own, for extra support. Then he bowed his head to kiss it. “I’d be a hypocrite if I minded. I don’t know what other steps you took to transition, but whatever you did or didn’t do doesn’t change my opinion on any of what we talked about.”

The little smile gracing Khadgar’s face was wobbly now. “Thank you. It’s the same for me.”

“That’s settled, then.” He released Khadgar, and offered him a skewered olive, coming down to a more playful mood. Khadgar picked it off easily, the movement bird-like in its swiftness. “Anything else?”

“Nothing I can think of. I feel like I had a whole list of things to ask about, and now it’s all fled my mind.”

“You can ask anytime. We don’t have to make an event out of it for the next time, hm?”

“Ah, perhaps I was a little too zealous about making things official. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I understand you wanted to settle some of the details. Certainty is important in life.”

“We can enjoy our romantic dinner now, in peace. There’s still plenty to eat, with how much you piled up here.”

Medivh nodded, and put a hand on Khadgar’s shoulder, pulling him closer and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. The noise of utter satisfaction the man made spurred him on to leave another against his brow, then his cheekbone, the tip of his nose. Khadgar then couldn’t wait any longer and leaned up, asking for one more kiss. The sight of it was tempting as always, his apprentice’s lips full and intensely flushed, and he captured them in a bruising kiss, Khadgar responding in kind. They came apart a moment later, hesitantly searching each other’s faces for an opinion on how that was. 

“Food first. Kissing later,” Medivh chided. “I didn’t travel all over for nothing.”

Khadgar expression was a little disappointed but he relented, offering to feed him some food again. Piece by piece, bites were traded back and forth, and sometimes they would leave kisses on each other’s fingers and palms and wrists, letting the good mood of the evening carry them through the rest of the wine bottle as well. They left the glasses and the board there when they got up, unsteadily leaning into each other, Khadgar’s hands wandering over his back in a half-hug, half-caress, soaking up the closeness like it was his last time.

“One more question,” he said against Medivh’s shoulder.

“Mmmm?”

“Can I sleep in your bed now?”

The question warmed his heart, the sweet note of shyness to it fatally endearing. He gathered Khadgar up in his arms. “We can make it _our_ bed, yes?”

Khadgar channeled his drunken joy into one more spell, blinking them away to their bed.

  
  
  
  



End file.
